it around the woman.
Her bright smile returned and she patted Marina on the cheek. Her hand was remarkably soft and gentle.
The kind gesture made Marina feel like crying all over again. At least someone felt that she was doing something right. Even if it was as simple as keeping them warm. "You're welcome," she said in a brusque tone. She stood. "Come on."
3
Aunty Helen didn't say anything on the drive to Marina's apartment. She stared out at the dark, chilly morning, looking at the bright lights of the highway and the large buildings looming on both sides of the highway. Close to her apartment, Marina stopped at an all-night grocery store and bought another box of tissues and a pair of wool gloves.
When she got back into the car, she rubbed her hands together. "Warm enough?"
Aunty Helen just blinked.
Marina put the gloves in her lap. "You'll need these." She put them on her. "Better?" she said, not expecting a reply and not getting one. Instead Aunty Helen held up her hands, flexed her fingers and smiled.
At home, Marina put Aunty Helen's bag in the hall. She wasn't tired and her guest didn't look so either. Marina mimed holding a bowl and spoon and pretended to eat. "Hungry?" she asked.
Aunty Helen blinked.
She mimed drinking. "Or thirsty?"
The woman blinked again.
Marina sighed. "I'll just give you something okay? And then you can rest on the couch until my mother picks you up and I don't know why I keep talking to you when you don't know what I'm saying."
She put on the kettle for tea then quickly put together a meal of peanut soup she'd recently gotten from her mother.
The woman delve into the meal and again patted her on the cheek, but this time Marina didn't feel like crying. She felt glad she'd been able to make the woman happy. She was clearing up her living room couch to give her a place to nap when her phone rang. She checked the number and sighed when she saw her brother, Wale's, number. "What do you want?"
"To warn you. Mom's upset. You're in big trouble," he said in Yoruba.
"I'm always in trouble," she said in kind.
He laughed then said in English. "Your Yoruba still sucks."
"Shut up, it's not too late for me to give you a lump of coal," she said then hung up the phone, wondering why her brother felt like teasing her. And what could her mother be upset about now? A moment later, her phone rang again. She was about to say something rude when she recognized the number.
"Hi Mom."
"Why didn't you pick up Aunty Helen?" she demanded.
"What do you mean? I did." She looked at the woman sitting in her kitchen. "She's right here. You could have told me that she didn't speak English."
"What are you going on about? She speaks perfect English. She has a degree from Oxford."
Marina rolled her eyes, not caring where the woman received her degree, though her mother did. She was about to ask why that mattered when her mother continued.
"She just called. Your brother had to go get her."
Marina felt her stomach drop. "That doesn't make any sense. I have Aunty Helen right here. She's eating in my kitchen."
"Oh my god. What have you done?"
Marina's heart started to race and her breathing became shallow. Had she failed again? How could that be? "I did what you told me to. I picked up a woman matching Aunty Helen's vague description. I even asked her her name." Marina paused remembering the incident. She hadn't really asked her name. She'd just said "Aunty Helen?' and the woman smiled and she assumed it was her. "Wait a moment." She ran into the kitchen where the woman was cleaning up her soup with a warm slice of bread. Aunty Helen?"
The woman looked up and smiled.
"You are Aunty Helen?" Marina repeated to make sure.
She continued to smile.
Could she have the same name as the other woman?
"Mom, she seems fine."
"Describe her to me."
"She's small and about eighty something. She didn't have the proper clothes for the weather and had only one bag."
"Aunty Helen isn't over sixty."
"Why didn't
Her bright smile returned and she patted Marina on the cheek. Her hand was remarkably soft and gentle.
The kind gesture made Marina feel like crying all over again. At least someone felt that she was doing something right. Even if it was as simple as keeping them warm. "You're welcome," she said in a brusque tone. She stood. "Come on."
3
Aunty Helen didn't say anything on the drive to Marina's apartment. She stared out at the dark, chilly morning, looking at the bright lights of the highway and the large buildings looming on both sides of the highway. Close to her apartment, Marina stopped at an all-night grocery store and bought another box of tissues and a pair of wool gloves.
When she got back into the car, she rubbed her hands together. "Warm enough?"
Aunty Helen just blinked.
Marina put the gloves in her lap. "You'll need these." She put them on her. "Better?" she said, not expecting a reply and not getting one. Instead Aunty Helen held up her hands, flexed her fingers and smiled.
At home, Marina put Aunty Helen's bag in the hall. She wasn't tired and her guest didn't look so either. Marina mimed holding a bowl and spoon and pretended to eat. "Hungry?" she asked.
Aunty Helen blinked.
She mimed drinking. "Or thirsty?"
The woman blinked again.
Marina sighed. "I'll just give you something okay? And then you can rest on the couch until my mother picks you up and I don't know why I keep talking to you when you don't know what I'm saying."
She put on the kettle for tea then quickly put together a meal of peanut soup she'd recently gotten from her mother.
The woman delve into the meal and again patted her on the cheek, but this time Marina didn't feel like crying. She felt glad she'd been able to make the woman happy. She was clearing up her living room couch to give her a place to nap when her phone rang. She checked the number and sighed when she saw her brother, Wale's, number. "What do you want?"
"To warn you. Mom's upset. You're in big trouble," he said in Yoruba.
"I'm always in trouble," she said in kind.
He laughed then said in English. "Your Yoruba still sucks."
"Shut up, it's not too late for me to give you a lump of coal," she said then hung up the phone, wondering why her brother felt like teasing her. And what could her mother be upset about now? A moment later, her phone rang again. She was about to say something rude when she recognized the number.
"Hi Mom."
"Why didn't you pick up Aunty Helen?" she demanded.
"What do you mean? I did." She looked at the woman sitting in her kitchen. "She's right here. You could have told me that she didn't speak English."
"What are you going on about? She speaks perfect English. She has a degree from Oxford."
Marina rolled her eyes, not caring where the woman received her degree, though her mother did. She was about to ask why that mattered when her mother continued.
"She just called. Your brother had to go get her."
Marina felt her stomach drop. "That doesn't make any sense. I have Aunty Helen right here. She's eating in my kitchen."
"Oh my god. What have you done?"
Marina's heart started to race and her breathing became shallow. Had she failed again? How could that be? "I did what you told me to. I picked up a woman matching Aunty Helen's vague description. I even asked her her name." Marina paused remembering the incident. She hadn't really asked her name. She'd just said "Aunty Helen?' and the woman smiled and she assumed it was her. "Wait a moment." She ran into the kitchen where the woman was cleaning up her soup with a warm slice of bread. Aunty Helen?"
The woman looked up and smiled.
"You are Aunty Helen?" Marina repeated to make sure.
She continued to smile.
Could she have the same name as the other woman?
"Mom, she seems fine."
"Describe her to me."
"She's small and about eighty something. She didn't have the proper clothes for the weather and had only one bag."
"Aunty Helen isn't over sixty."
"Why didn't
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